But he wasn’t.
Sigge was alone in the suite when he’d woken, and he’d checked. By his reckoning, J.J. was down at the fitness center. The man slept like a maniac, and his bedding was all torn to hell like usual. His clothes from last night were draped neatly on a chair—the housekeeping staff would take care of them when they came to clean up—and his gym bag was missing.
On the other hand, Tyler’s room was empty and neat. No discarded clothes, no slept-in bed. So, though he’d made a stab at subterfuge by bringing breakfast in, Sigge wasn’t buying it.
Ty tossed him a sandwich and brought over a coffee while Sig finished up with Coach. Ty dug into a sandwich and busied himself on his own phone, neatly avoiding eye contact when Sig hung up.
Sighing, pretty sure he didn’t want to know, Sig had to ask. “Where’d you spend the night?”
Ty finished something on his phone and drank from his coffee before letting his gaze finally wander over. Even then he didn’t answer right off, but just looked back at Sigge.
They’d never had a fight over a woman.
“With Indy,” he said eventually.
Sig closed his eyes and dropped his head back, abruptly aware how much his knee ached. He took another long breath and looked back at his friend. “Are you done with her?”
“I…dunno.”
“Shit. You’re always done, Tyler.”
Ty frowned and shifted, sticking his one ankle up on his other knee. “I…don’t know, man.”
Fuck. If Sigge was reading him right, the man was in his own quandary. He’d never known Tyler to “not know” about a woman.
J.J. blew in just then, sweat putting a sheen on his dark skin and saturating his muscle shirt. In that way he had, he looked from one of them to the other and seemed to get the drift. Watching them, he went for the bag of sandwiches and fetched one out. “How ya doin’, man? How’s the knee?”
“It’s okay,” Sig managed. “I just talked with Coach. I’m supposed to check in at the field house early next week. Start a rehab plan.”
J.J. nodded. “You okay if we ski today? Ty, you wanna hit the slopes?”
Sig lifted a hand in consent while Tyler answered. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just shower up.”
When he disappeared, Sigge was aware of J.J.’s intent gaze. “He spent the night with the woman?”
“Yep.”
“Can’t blame him,” Jage said quietly. “I like her, too.”
“She’s trouble, isn’t she?” Sig asked.
“We’re strong,” J.J. said. “We’ll work it out.”
Yeah, well, Sigge didn’t know how that was going to happen.
He spent the day trying not to think about it. He hobbled down to the fitness center on his crutches and did a decent upper-body workout. Then he spent some time in the hot tub there, soaking his knee. A handful of good-looking, fit, and interested women appeared to change their minds about spending the day skiing when they saw him there. Sig wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but he didn’t engage either. Even when he looked, he didn’t see anything there that compared to the woman he’d met up the mountain.
He hung out in the suite for a while, passing some time talking with his mother and mormor in Sweden until their bedtime. As it started to get dark, he took himself out for dinner. He figured he didn’t want to be there when Tyler and J.J. got back.
They’d rented a nice SUV so they’d have transportation besides Ty’s truck. He took that and headed out to a steak house. When he finished his meal, lingering over cold French fries, he finally accepted that there was only one thing he wanted to do, one place he wanted to go. Trouble or no.
So he drove up to Indy’s and, after just a few minutes of wondering where the hell she was, he ended up with a very nice armful of woman.
She was breathing a little hard—she’d been working out. With a gloved hand, ski pole hanging at her wrist, she pushed back her hood and swept off her cap. That pretty hair fell, picking up silvery moonlight. “How are you doing?” she asked. “How’s the knee?”
Sigge nodded. “Okay. MRI was all right. No tears.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said, with a little squeeze where her other hand was on his arm. “I’m so glad.”
Quiet fell between them then, not entirely comfortable. She chewed at her lower lip. “Do you want to come in?”
Sig nodded again, silently.
“Come this way,” she said, backing up on her skis. “I’m sorry I almost bowled you over.”
The SUV he’d left in her drive was silver, almost the same color as the snow in the moonlight. He wasn’t surprised she hadn’t seen it as she skied in. “You know that’s an insult, right?”
She laughed and looked up at him, having bent down to hand him his crutches. “Sorry. Don’t know what I was thinking. Come through here. The stairs will be easier. Drier, anyway.”
Indy popped her skis off, gathered them up, and nodded him in the direction of a door she didn’t have to unlock next to the garage. They stepped into a sort of combo storage and mud room. It had outdoor clothing on hooks, an array of boots, winter sports equipment, and a corner of gardening stuff. A workbench stacked with pots and tools there made him think she might be serious about the gardening. An image flashed in his mind of being there in the spring, seeing what was under the snow.
She stowed her gear and her outer clothing, then motioned for him to follow her up a narrow staircase. She took back one of his crutches and carried it along, clearly having had some experience with navigating stairs on a lame knee. They came out into her kitchen. She handed the crutch back to another one of those silences.
Watching her brush her hair out with long fingers, he could see she’d worked up a sweat. She lifted a fleece sweater over her head and, always willing to help out, he put his hands at her waist, holding down the tee she had on underneath. Of course, it could have worked the other way, too, but he thought of that a little too late.
Looking at him again, she took a step back. “Are you hungry? I made a quiche today.”
He quirked half a smile and lifted one brow. “Really. Do you even know who you’re talking to?”
She laughed again and he remembered how much he liked her. “I ate,” he told her. “But you go ahead if you want.”
“No,” she said. “Come…sit down. Put your knee up. Do you want ice?”
“Nah, I’m good.” But he followed her to the living room and waited while she put a pillow on the coffee table like he’d had the night before. She set his crutches aside for him and then hovered. He could see she wanted to head over to the chair that was too far away.
“Will you sit with me again, Indy?” he asked.
With just a little hesitation, she nodded and sat down, but she was at an angle, facing him, and there was a distinct distance between them he didn’t like. He looked at her and lifted his arm. “Come closer?”
She dropped her gaze and chewed that lip again. “I slept with Tyler.”
Liking that she was up front about it, though not the fact of it, he took a breath, steady as he could make it. “I know.” The next two breaths were a little easier. “I’d still like to have my arm around you.”
Finding her courage, she brought her eyes up. After a moment, she scooted over and came into him, under his arm. He snugged her up and grabbed her free hand, holding it to his chest. He took a couple more breaths, deeper ones, and let his head fall back. “That feels better,” he said. Better than he’d felt all day. Maybe all his life.
She was warm against his side and chest, and he thought about staying just like that until he fell asleep, or…forever. But, of course, the person he held in his arms was a woman, and so—
“I didn’t really mean to, when he came.”
Sigge sighed inwardly, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Ty can be very convincing.”
He felt her next couple breaths, like she was searching for what to say, and was grateful when she subsided. He took a couple more breaths, too, and then h
oped he could finish it. “We— you and I—didn’t have any kind of commitment between us when you were with him.”
Though he wanted one badly.
And he knew, accepting it with substantial surprise, that whatever had happened between Indy and Ty didn’t change what he wanted with her. What might happen with Ty in the future…well, he would save that to think about another day.
She stayed quiet and soft against him, and Sigge was happy. He realized in a bit, when she moved, that he’d started to doze. He murmured his discontent when she got up but realized she was just turning off the lights. She came back to him lit by the fire only, wrapping a throw around herself. Before she sat again, he swung his leg around and scooted down so he was lying on the couch. Then he lifted his arms. “Come on,” he said, seeing her hesitate. “Lie down with me.”
On me, was what it amounted to, what he wanted, and, with another little hesitation, she did it. She put one knee between his, straddling his good thigh, tucked her shoulder under his arm and her spine against the couch back, and lay along his side, mostly on top of him. She’d kept his bad knee out of the line of fire.
It felt fucking great. Her head was on his shoulder, so he could turn his face to look at hers. He had his arms around her and hers were tucked around him. He felt the weight of her along his full length, just about, and he liked that, too.
“That’s good,” he said. He kissed her once, softly, though he could have sunk into those soft lips forever. Then he snuggled her into his shoulder and lay back, just holding her.
He was happy.
Chapter Five
Against all odds, Indy fell asleep. Sigge’s big body was so warm, like he had a power plant inside there generating heat. And he was so…welcoming, accepting.
Plus, she hadn’t slept much the night before.
Indy wasn’t sure what to expect when she’d skied practically right into him. He’d been a big, hulking mass in the dark, frightening at first. And then he’d been warm and friendly, enough so she’d wondered if maybe he didn’t know how she’d spent the night.
With whom.
But he told her he’d known and even offered her the excuse of Tyler’s strong will, albeit making no reference to the guy’s wild seductive powers. He seemed willing to not forgive, exactly, but, well, accept. Offering a sort of benediction.
She’d settled on top of him, his blue eyes encouraging her, and she felt close to tears. He was sweet and endlessly attractive, and she liked him. She was almost ashamed of herself, feeling as though she’d betrayed him, despite the fact that what he’d said was true.
No commitment had been made between them.
And Tyler did have…a strong will.
And…it had been a very long time for her.
Indy tried hard to live her life so she didn’t have to deal with regrets. She’d just learned that was an easier, better way. The truth was, she didn’t regret her night with Tyler, at least not at the time. It had been spectacular, lovely.
Now, though, accepting a sweet kiss from Sigge, feeling so warm and enclosed by him…her head was spinning with it. He must have been aware because, at some point, he put a knuckle under her chin, lifted up to kiss her forehead, and whispered, “Shh,” to her.
She’d fallen asleep, warm and comforted.
Later, she woke to his touch. He had one hand at her neck, his fingers gently stroking. The other was at her thigh, up near her ass, holding her against him—closely enough for her to feel the hard length of his erection. When she opened her eyes, his were there, intent, heated.
“Come up here,” he urged. “Kiss me.”
She looked up at him, their gazes locked, for several breaths. He wasn’t looking so sweet now, but more, she imagined, like his Viking warrior ancestors. The image of it stopped her for a long moment.
“Indiana.” He said her name gently, but imbued with enough weight that she was aware of the immutability of his will. He too was a powerful man.
Waiting her out, he might have convinced her he was also patient. But he didn’t, not quite. She felt the pressure of his fingers, the strength in just the tips of them, at her neck and on the back of her thigh.
It wasn’t something she could resist.
She pushed up, coming over him, chest to chest. He brought his right hand up, blatantly grasping her ass now, and, for just a moment letting the satisfaction of his victory blaze in his eyes, used his other to bring her mouth to his.
The kiss started gently, like his others. But there was banked heat behind it, surging power. She had her elbows splayed over his shoulders, her fingers curling into those sweet braids of his. His hand ran down her back, pressing her against him, making her breasts tingle against his chest.
He murmured in pleasure, flexing up so she felt the heat of his hard-on against her lower belly. His lips moved against hers, opening, and opening hers.
“Indy,” he groaned, more than once. His big hands moved over her, his arms holding her closely to him. “God, this feels good.”
He kissed her for a long time, stoking the heat of it, letting her know by the rhythmic rocking of his body beneath hers that there would be more. He finally broke away with a long groan. “Lift up,” he instructed, putting his hands at her ribs to help.
He set her back onto her knees with her legs straddling his hips. Watching her, he arched up and slid his two layers of shirts over his head. He tucked a pillow under his shoulders as he went back down so he was propped up, still looking at her.
He was gorgeous. His strong, cut abs rippled with his movements, his taut skin smooth and bronzed. His chest was incredibly muscled, his arms and shoulders bulky.
When he settled, he had his hands on her hips and his gaze on her. It wandered up from her waist, over her breasts, to her eyes. After a moment there, he sent it back down—to her breasts.
Then he waited.
Getting the message, her body stirring to the command in it, Indy took a deep breath. She had only a long-sleeved silk tee left on, with a cami layered under, and her sports bra after that. Slowly, watching his eyes whenever she could, she peeled the tee up and over her head. When she dropped it to the floor, she leaned back and let him look.
He appeared to like what he saw. His gaze hovered over her bare shoulders, heating her. His hands lifted and skidded down the length of her arms. He grasped her fingers and squeezed encouragement into them.
On another breath, she lifted her cami up and over. He gripped her ribs on either side and a wave of pleasure shuddered through him. She felt it in her pelvis.
“Indy,” he said, and it was almost a groan. His warm hands slid up and down, his thumbs tracking along the lower edge of her bra. “Keep going.” His voice was hoarse.
Slipping her fingers under the cups of her bra, she slowly lifted it, giving him just an inch at a time. She paused when, with the next inch, she’d bare her nipples. He grunted then, his fingers flexing at her waist.
“Do it,” he urged.
She took the bra farther, letting her breasts fall free, then lifted it over her head and dropped it to the side.
Sigge’s breath was rough, his gaze locked on her tits. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He was rocking steadily now, his hands at her hips holding her against that movement. After long moments of appreciation, his gaze came up to hers. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Indy smiled, feeling his words, more confident in her beauty than she’d ever felt before. She ran her hands down his forearms, looking back at him, appreciating his own magnificent attractiveness. “You, too, Sigge. You’re beautiful, too.”
His gaze smoldered. “Put my hands on your tits,” he said, abruptly reminding her of the powerful male he was.
On a breath that quivered, she put her hands over his and then lifted them to cover her breasts. They both shuddered then, shared moans of pleasure sounding from each of them. She held him to her, his big hands containing her, her nipples tightening into his palms. Lifting a little
, she rocked, the motion of her pelvis matching his, inflaming them both.
“Sig,” she said, needy, almost panicked.
“Come here,” he murmured. “Kiss me.”
She fell over him, her hands keeping his in place, her breasts tight and nerve-prickled in his palms. He lifted to meet her mouth, and they came together roughly, needily. Hungrily.
They moaned, names and endearments mixed with sounds of pleasure and want. They rocked together now, the heat of his hard cock stroking against her.
“Baby,” he said. “Sweetheart.” There were Swedish words in there, ӓlskling, and others she didn’t know. “Let me have you.”
He was urgent, his hands moving now, his fingers finding her nipples and tweaking, thrumming. “Indy.”
She lifted up on a wild breath, holding his hands against her. Her breath panted out, and she shivered under the hot blaze of his gaze.
“Let me have you,” he said again, a fierce directive.
Shuddering, Indy rose. She went to her feet beside the couch, and, sure of what he’d like, she faced him and slowly slid her leggings over her hips and down. She stood again, letting him have the view of her in a thong. Then she hooked her thumbs into the little straps and lowered them, too.
She took her own good look while his breath grunted out in appreciation. His lean, cut abdomen narrowed into the waistband of his jeans. The fly was full, bulging tightly over the bulk of his erection.
“Come here,” he instructed.
Knowing what would happen, she took a step closer to his chest. His gaze was locked on her pussy, and, though she grasped what he wanted, she waited for him to say it. “Open.”
She took another half step, separating her thighs just a bit. He lifted his hand and, checking her gaze as he went, though mostly watching his own actions, he put his thumb against her clit. Then he pushed his fingers between her thighs. His eyes on hers again, he pressed his middle finger into her cunt.
With a groan, Indy arched, making it easy for him. He sank deeply into her, murmuring those words that were strange but encouraging. “Våt,” he said, letting her know his pleasure that she was wet for him. He worked inside her, his long finger fucking her, finding her most sensitive spot.
Three Men and a Woman: Indiana (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 7